The rain on the river reminds me of something.
I think it reminds me of when I was younger and everything was perfect.
Of when I would go and play in the rain and jump around in thunderstorms then make my mom mad at me.
It reminds me of when I didn't have a worry in the world.
I love rain.
Curling up with a good book in the giant windowsill and just reading while listening to the pitter patter of the rain on the window.
Feeling the cold chills and having to grab my jacket then getting comfy and your friend calls asking if you want to play in the rain for old times sake.
Every time it rained.
I miss those days.
But now I'm whatever this is and I can't feel anything or I feel too much.
But when it rains, it all comes flooding back like a dream.
The smell of spring rain.
Spring trees.
Spring flowers.
Just spring.
And rain.
Just summer.
And thunderstorms.
Just fall.
And cold showers.
Just winter.
And snow.
Wanna play in the rain with me?
YOU ARE READING
Broken Wings
Poetry'For someone so small you're pretty strong. For someone so brave you're pretty shy. For someone so observant you're pretty abnormal.' For someone like me it's pretty hard to decide who I wanna be or where I want to fit in. So this isn't exactly poet...
